Heating up the Race

Tea: Mandarin Green, iced.

Music: Squeeze, "Tempted"

Time: Night.

I am, as you might not know, an independent politically. Until they form a "Dude, Don't be a Moron" Party, I have no permanent allegiance. If there's a good Democratic primary, I'm a temporary donkey. If the Republicans have the best primary, they're GOPeachy keen with me -- until it's time to quit again.

For years, the presidential primaries made me a Republican so I could vote for Pat Paulsen. No such luck these days, and I'm stuck between two major party choices who don't exactly thrill me. I could vote for Ron Paul, I suppose, or Bob Barr, but it wouldn't matter. I live in Kansas, and because the Electoral College still hasn't been consigned to history (which will be one of the first acts of the "Dude, Don't be a Moron" Party), any vote which isn't Republican doesn't count.

(Not to say that I'd vote Democratic, or any other affiliation. I'm just saying that each vote should count, which is the subject of another rant entirely.)

Anyhow. A friend of mine, who trusts politicians about as far as she could spit Antarctica, pondered whether to write in the name of chef Daniel Bouloud. "Foie gras in every garage," she said." I pointed out that he was born in France. "Fine," she said. "Anthony Bourdain. I'm not picky."

Hmm ... not a bad idea, that. Give me a tattooed, snarky chainsmoker who never met a home brew he didn't like over a prefab candidatron any day. So the Swiss would hate us. Or maybe the Austrians. Or both. If we could get the list down to two countries, I'd be okay with that.

A Round Tuit

Tea: Blackcurrant with honey.

Music: The Who, "Another Tricky Day"

Time: Midafternoon.

What's this? A post before nightfall?

It happens, yes, and it needs to happen more often.

I tend to be the world's greatest procrastinator, or I would be if I could ever get around to it. (Ba DUM pum.) Seriously, though, I've (mis)mastered the art of putting things off until the last day, the last minute, the last second.

To be honest, there are better life strategies. So consider this a small step in the right direction. There will be others taken -- some larger, some smaller.

I suppose I'm around to it, at last. Just call me Magellan.

Bumbershoot Deficit

Tea: Chai, iced.

Music: David Bowie, "China Girl"

Time: Night.

It's raining tonight, and I have a walk of a mile (give or take) back to the house.

That's fine. I like walking at night. Always have. Most of my memorable walks have been after dark -- here, in southwest Kansas, in New York, in Germany.

I just wish I'd remembered an umbrella ...

Hats off to Larryville

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang.

Music: Danny Wilson, "Mary's Prayer"

Time: Night.

I went to Lawrence, Kansas, today, for work (present and, one hopes, future). I revisited some familiar haunts, namely Henry's (for an Americano) and the local branch of the Great Harvest Bread Company (just to breathe).

Then, on to the Spencer Museum of Art, on campus at the University of Kansas, to gather material for a review of the quilt show. (I'm turning into quite the quilt-viewer, it seems.) Check it and the other shows out if you get a chance, but give yourself plenty of time to get to the museum ... there's a ton of construction that disrupts foot and vehicular traffic.

Then it was back to Mass. Street for a Latin American lunch (pork al pastor rice bowl with an arepa on the side) at La Parilla. (Its sister restaurants serve noodles -- one Asian, one Italian. That's a global family.)

So why am I telling you all this? To make you jealous?

You know me better than that. I want you to go check it out for yourself.

The Aftereffects of Neglect

Tea: Peach, iced.

Music: INXS, "Don't Change"

Time: Evening.

Today, I met a woman who teaches at one of the colleges here in the metro area. She teaches English as a Second Language to one group of students -- and, in effect, English as a First Language to another.

They're native-born college freshmen, products of the public schools, who can't identify the parts of speech. (I have a friend who specializes in truly righteous rage. I'd like to turn her loose on whoever failed these kids.)

It's astonishing. It's sad. But at least, with enough Schoolhouse Rock, it's fixable. A lot of damage isn't.

Spanning a Gap

Tea: Iced Litchi with honey

Music: U2, "An Cat Dubh"

Time: Evening.

It happens sometimes. Tonight, I got nothing.

You should listen to this, though. It's afreakingmazing.

More proof that polished and brilliant are not always the same thing.

Like the fellow once said ...

Tea: Black Fruit.

Music: Bobby Darin, "Beyond the Sea".

Time: Night.

Well, the Beijing Olympics are over. There have been amazing achievements (Is Usain Bolt is a freak of nature, or what? Okay, so maybe the celebration was a little over the top.) and touching tributes like this one.

And there have been huge downers -- many of them courtesy of the hosts, from gymnasts in diapers to Cutegate to the fact that NOT ONE FREAKING PROTEST PERMIT WAS GRANTED.

I was talking to a friend tonight on the phone (land line -- the cell phone mic falling into the same category as a certain Spanish dictator), and the consensus was that this guy provided the lowest point of the Olympics.

We haven't seen the headlines, but we came up with several:

"TAE KWON DON'T"

"TAE KWON DONE"

"TAE KWON DOLT"

"TAE KWON DO YOU REALLY WANT TO HURT ME?"

And, the one that got the biggest giggles from both sides:

"TAE KWON D'OH!"

Thanks. We'll be here all week.